


Shock

by Luka



Series: We're a Team [8]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: There's discord on the first day of the England World Cup training camps.





	Shock

**Author's Note:**

> This is the latest instalment in my series that tries to explore what might happen if two international rugby stars came out. I've taken today's announcement from the England camp and twisted it for my own nefarious ends.
> 
> And here's a warning for both bad language and homophobic language ...

The Wigan accent was distinctive and crystal-clear as George, Jonny and Ben dragged their cases towards the Pennyhill Park lift.

““How’s the sugar-plum fairy going to cope for the next fortnight without his big, butch protector hovering over him?”

The laugh was equally distinctive and George stopped dead so that Jonny cannoned into the back of him.

“And I wonder who’s drawn the short straw to room with him? They’re not gonna find many takers for rooming with a poof, especially the captain’s bum boy who’s bound to go telling tales out of school. Sanctimonious little shit,” said the same voice.

George let go of his case so that it toppled over and took half a dozen paces towards one of the alcoves in the huge foyer. “You want to say that to my face?”

The look of shock on the two faces was almost worth all the shit. Chris Ashton opened his mouth, then shut it again. Courtney Lawes at least looked faintly sheepish.

Jonny went to pull George back, but he shrugged away and took another step forward. And he noticed that Courtney, almost a foot taller than him, instinctively moved back.

“You’re all piss and wind, aren’t you, Ashton? You’d never have the guts to say what you really think direct to either me or Owen … My private life is none of your fucking business …”

“It fucking well is when you’re playing for England and screwing the fucking captain!” Ashton’s pale cheeks were flushed.

“You got a fucking problem, mate, you talk to Eddie about it. He’s known about me and Owen from the start.”

“Fordy’s right … His private life is none of our business. And for your information, sunshine, I’ve had zero problem finding him a roommate. They know he’s a good lad and not a cunt like you.”

Everyone looked around to find the imposing, deceptively quietly-spoken figure of Dan Cole there. As one of the senior pros, it was his job to sort out the rooming arrangements. And behind him was what looked like half the sodding squad listening in.

Courtney started to mutter something - it might have been justification or even an apology - but George swung around to look at him. “Yeah, mate, I know what you said to Billy after the Instagram shit, that he should be able to say what he likes. It’s nice to know you’re OK about hate speech, then. So you’d be fine with some fuckwit making a racist comment to you and claiming free speech?”

The big lock looked away and George knew he’d scored a direct hit. Before he could weigh in again, Coley said: “There’s a team meeting in 45 minutes. Anyone who’s got any problems with anything, go and talk to Eddie about it. Otherwise, keep your mouths shut and leave Fordy alone.”

The gathering started to break up, with Ashton and Courtney both disappearing across the foyer and then outside. George went back to where he’d dumped his bags. He couldn’t believe that shit had kicked off within minutes of everyone arriving.

Ben pulled him into a hug. “You OK, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“He really is a shit for brains.”

“Yeah, I know …” George had always got on well with the lads who’d arrived from rugby league as they’d had a common topic of conversation. But it was almost like Ashton had gone out of his way to avoid him from the very start and he’d never known why.

And he’d heard the podcast where Ashton was discussing with Andy Goode and Jim Hamilton why Danny Cipriani had no chance of going to the World Cup. The sneer in his voice when he mentioned how influential Owen and George were was unmistakable. And as for that fuckwit Goode … George had never forgiven him for a vitriolic diatribe on the podcast when he’d rejoined Tigers from Bath.

When he got upstairs to his room, he found the familiar figure of JJ sitting on one of the beds, texting. When George opened the door, JJ leapt to his feet and hugged him.

“You OK, Fordy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks, mate.”

“That guy really is a grade A fuckwit.”

“I know. And you realise the likes of him’ll assume that you’re queer because you’re sharing a room with me?”

JJ rolled his eyes. “They can think what the fuck they like. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a good mate and that’s the only thing that matters. To be honest, I’d wondered for a while if you were gay, as you never showed the slightest interest in any girls all those times when we went out on the piss in Bath. But Ant said you’d tell us in your own time …”

As if on cue, Anthony and Jonny burst in without knocking from the room next door. Given they were both as scatty as each other, rooming them together was probably one of Coley’s better ideas. And then Ben appeared with a faintly bemused young Marcus Smith in tow, and the whole thing degenerated into a manic conversation with everyone talking at once. George nodded occasionally to prove he was half-listening while he unpacked. JJ was one of the best. And at least he was reasonably tidy and didn’t snore …

***

The meeting room was almost full when the six of them slipped in and found seats at the back. It didn’t stop most of those there from turning around to stare at George. He’d already had about a dozen supportive text messages, which had made him feel a bit better. He wondered, though, how many others shared Ashton’s view. And given this was the first time the squad had got together since the Six Nations and since he and Owen had gone public about their relationship, he might have guessed that it wouldn’t all be plain sailing. Instinctively he sat up straight, his eyes meeting other people’s. Almost everyone grinned at him and nodded or winked.

Eddie started off by welcoming everyone and outlining the plans for the next few days. He was in smiley, avuncular mode, and George thought that maybe he hadn’t heard about the incident in the foyer. Just as he was zoning out slightly and wondering whether he should phone Owen later, Jonny elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Eddie had suddenly switched into serious setting. “I was most unhappy to hear about the unpleasant incident earlier. For those of you new to the squad, I want to make it plain that I won’t tolerate homophobic behaviour. Owen and George have been honest with me about their relationship from the very start, and they’re both consummate professionals who keep their private set-up entirely separate from their sporting lives. What they do in their private lives is of no concern to anyone in this room. With regard to the two people concerned, one of them will take no further part in training for the World Cup, and the other has been warned in no uncertain terms to pick his company with a great deal more care. England Rugby will be releasing a statement this evening, so if you are approached by reporters, please refer them to the media team.”

The room swam in front of George’s eyes for a moment or so. The fucker had been sent home, then … George had no sympathy for Ashton, who deserved what he got. But the team unity worried him. And this was before Billy had even joined the squad. He knew Mako was supposed to be there for treatment, but he hadn’t seem him yet.

George glanced at his watch. It was 6.45pm and dinner was at 7.30. He had just enough time to phone Owen.

***

George perched on one of the walls overlooking the hotel’s spectacular gardens. Wordlessly Ben and Jonny sat down either side of him. He was about to say something, then realised how much their support meant to him, so he managed a smile for them. 

He pulled his phone out and stared in disbelief at the number of messages on it. He’d flicked it to silent when they’d gone into the team meeting. Top of the messages was one from Owen: ‘PHONE ME! x’

They’d parted that morning. Owen was going back home for a few days, then flying over to Ireland to spend a week with his family. George hit speed-dial.

“Fucker!” was Owen’s opening gambit.

“Yep. How did you find out?”

“I’ve had about 20 texts in two minutes. And Eddie’s just phoned.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You OK, our kid?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. The sane folk weighed in bloody quickly. Coley’s a star.”

“Might have guessed we’d get shit off Ashton.”

“Yeah …”

“He’ll be no fucking loss. Remember that, and remember that we’ve got plenty of good people around us.”

“I know … Ben and Jonny are here now. And JJ and Ant have been ace.”

“They’re all good lads. Listen, you need to get ready for dinner. Can you check your email a bit later, as there’s something I want your view on. Not sinister or urgent, just when you get a moment.”

“Sure,” said George distractedly, nodding at Ben who was pointing to his watch.

“Stay strong. Love you.”

“Love you too,” said George, jabbing Jonny in the ribs in an effort to stop him rolling his eyes.

“Never mind all that,” said Ben. “I want my dinner now. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

“Piglet,” said George, following them both inside.


End file.
